


My Love, I Love

by julip



Category: Hamilton - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Scars, body image issues, jefferson isnt an asshole for once wowowow, poor hammy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 07:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julip/pseuds/julip
Summary: Alexander was certainly not a perfect man, no matter how many times Thomas told him that he was.Thomas was certainly not a heartless bastard, no matter how many times Alexander told him that he was.Everyone has their secrets to keep.





	My Love, I Love

**Author's Note:**

> i had this idea in my head for a while, and actually typing it turned out to be a huge mess. I apologize to the poor souls that choose to read my terrible writing. RIP my dignity.

Alexander was certainly not a perfect man, no matter how many times Thomas told him that he was.

Thomas was certainly not a heartless bastard, no matter how many times Alexander told him that he was.

Everyone has their secrets to keep.

Alexander never thought much of his scars before that day in the bathroom with Thomas. He sometimes even forgot about them, since he never really craned his neck to look at his reflection in the mirror. He never went swimming. He never took his shirt off besides in the comfort of his own home, where he was alone.

Alone. That was a word that he had become so accustomed to. It was his status at all times until he met Thomas. When his mother died he was alone. When his cousin died he was alone. When Laurens died he was alone.

When Thomas was with him, he did feel the slight pang in his chest that signified that he was going to be alone very soon, but not quite yet. 

Yet. A word he revolved his way of life around. He had not finished writing yet. He had not finished talking yet. He had not eaten yet.

He, and everyone around him, knew that "yet" really meant "never". He was so deeply consumed by his work and mind, that he would never be done writing, or speaking. Meaning that there was never time for meals.

However, there was time for Thomas somewhere in the mix. Thomas weasled his tall, cocky, virginian ass into his life as an opponent, at first. Someone to argue with. An enemy.

But one thing led to a next, and Alexander never expected his worst enemy to become a one night stand. Or a two night stand. Or a month night stand.

As more and more pairs of long white socks began to accumulate in Alexander's drawers--that definitely werent his--he slowly came to the realization that Thomas was not a stranger in his home anymore. He should've known when two toothbrushes lay on the counter beside the sink. Or when there were two different brands of deodorant on the shelf above the towel rack.

To sum it all up, Alexander was royally screwed. 

"Sweetie, are you joining me or what?" Thomas yelled from the bathroom, the sound of running water slightly muffled his words.

Sweetie. Alexander almost tore off his clothing and jumped in the shower in that very moment just to see Thomas's gorgeous face. The man always knew what Alexander needed to be called. He called him sweet even though Alexander was far from it. Thomas even called him love even though he couldn't fathom the thought of anyone feeling that way towards a man like him.

But in that same moment he suddenly felt his back heat up, almost as if his scarred skin was trying to warn him.

Alexander tried to tell himself that Thomas wouldn't care. That Thomas would hold him and whisper sweet nothings into his ear for eternity. Yet, Thomas could be a cruel man. He had been guilty of slipping up and criticizing Alexander when he became angry in the past. Alexander didn't want to make him angry, but it seemed like that was going to happen as his hands froze by his side, unwilling to grab the hem of his shirt.

"Alex?"

Alexander slowly made his way towards the bathroom door. As each heavy step hit the carpeted floor, the door seemed to get farther and farther away. He told himself that he wasn't going to panic, yet here he was, afraid of his "lover?" seeing a few scratches on his back after that same man had seen him in a variety of different vulgar, sexual situations.

"Alex, are you there?" Thomas called out again. Alexander snapped back into reality, noticing that the closed door was actually a fingertips length away.

"Y-yeah." He muttered, slowly pushing open the door.

Thomas was in the middle of tossing his shirt off and onto the tile flooring. Alexander wished he could be so careless with his body. He noticed every precise line that ran from shoulder blade to the small of his back. He envied his smooth, unscathed skin, free of any blemish.

Alexander wished he was as beautiful as Thomas. 

Thomas turned around to see Alex scanning his body.

"You like what you see?" Thomas jarred, wiggling his eyebrows. However, Alexander just stood there, wide eyed and nodding uncertainly.

Thomas frowned. "What's wrong? Is there something on me?"

Alexander shook his head. "No you're gorgeous, as usual. I'm just thinking."

Thomas dropped his sweatpants to the floor, revealing himself in only a pair of silky black boxers. 

"...about?"

Alexander was about to twist the doorknob and run out of his own house at that point. He didn't want this godly, confident man to see his disgusting, humilated side.

"Thomas, I don't think I can do this anymore."

Thomas's face completely drained of it's color. His lips parted slightly as he tried to form the right words to say.

"What? You don't want me to stay here anymore? Are you sick of me already? I can leave--"

Alexander rushed over to Thomas, cupping his cheeks with his small hands.  
"No, no, Thomas, I like you a lot. I don't ever want you to leave."

Alexander's stomach fluttered since he knew that he made Thomas like this. He was the one that made Thomas so scared of his abandonment. 

Thomas sighed in relief as Alex slid his hands away from his cheeks and down to his chest. The shorter man hung his head in shame as he ran his tongue against his chapped lips.

"Then what do you mean?" Thomas asked in a voice barely above a whisper. He subconsciously began running his fingers through Alexander's messy bed head.

"I just, I don't, I can't shower with you."

Thomas burst out laughing so loudly that Alexander's heart shattered into pieces at the very sound of it.

"Honey, if you're worried about me seeing you naked, I hope you know that I've seen you're bare ass so many times that I've lost track!" He said in between laughs, but when he felt the heat of Alex's palms dissipate into thin air, he opened his eyes.

Alex was looking up at Thomas with a broken expression, eyes glistening with tears that he had been trying so desperately to keep inside his body.

"Okay...so it's not that...?" Thomas asked awkwardly.

Alexander spun around on the heels of his feet to leave the room but an arm tugged at his sleeve.

"Baby, I'm sorry for laughing. Please tell me what's wrong."

Baby. That sinful word that Thomas knew made Alexander melt.

Thomas knew a lot of things, but he didn't know about his scars. He always lay on his back during sex, and if not, the lights were always off. Or, he just wouldn't take his shirt off, which typically got kind of messy, but Thomas never asked. He just went with it, because he only cared about Alexander's lower-half. 

"It's my back." Alex choked out, feeling a panic attack contracting in his chest.

"What about it?" Thomas questioned, pulling the smaller man in closer.

Alex ripped away from him, pressing his back against wall in defense. In the beginning of his attacks, he hated being touched. It reminded him too much of the hands that were violating him soon before he was given these scars.

Thomas had never seen Alex have a panic attack before. Alexander was typically calm and collected, and very needy in bed.

However, Thomas seemed to understand what was happening, so he backed up with his hands up to show that he was not going to touch Alex.

Alex breathed through it, desperately trying to recall his countless books about mental disorders, frantically picking out excercises to deal with his immense panic. He started counting in his head, '1...in...2...out...3...in'

"4...out...5...in"

Alexander's eyes snapped open as he realized that voice wasn't in his head. The burning under his skin died down. Alex quirked an eyebrow up at him as he panted.

"I used to have to do those breathing exercises when I was little." Thomas explained sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck.

Alexander blushed. Now he felt like a little kid. 'Baby' seemed like the only pet name that truly fit him.

Alexander had eventually calmed down and moved closer to Thomas, playing with his tiny fingers as he mustered up the courage to tell Thomas what was on his mind. He felt like he needed to tell him as an offering of his gratitude for distracting him from his attack.

"W-when i-i" alexander stopped when he felt a hand gently fall on his shoulder.

"Alex,you don't have to tell me anymore. After witnessing that, I know that whatever is on your back is fucking with your head. I don't want to make you feel any worse than you already do." Thomas said, smiling sadly.

Little did Thomas know; that sad smile had broken Alexander's heart into a million more tiny shards.

"No, shut up. I can do this. You're going to have to find out sooner or later. You deserve to know."

Alex inhaled sharply before he continued.

"In Yorktown I was captured by a team of redcoats while I was on nightwatch. They all dragged me into a room and interrogated me for answers about America's plans and tactics, but I wouldn't give them any. So, they tortured me until they were finished, and then, threw me out the door like trash. They whipped me and dug blades into my back. They shot me a few times in places they knew wouldnt kill me. With bullets they knew would just slightly puncture my skin just enough that I wouldn't bleed out and die. They didn't want to kill me. No, They wanted to play with my body until they got bored. I had to drag myself back to the camp with all the energy I could muster up. I had to patch up all my wounds. No one else was awake. I was alone when I needed someone the most, like always."

Alex didn't even notice tears were rolling down his cheeks at first. But when he did, he frantically wiped them away with the back of his hand. Thomas had never seen him cry, and he didn't want the Virginian to think he was even more grotesque than he already was. 

"Stop crying, you wuss." He scolded himself.

Meanwhile, Thomas just stood their in shock. He would have never guessed Hamilton, the spit-fire, clever, hardworking bastard would have gone through so much physical and emotionally trauma. Thomas knew about his mother and cousin and ex-boyfriend. But Alex brushed it all off like they didn't mean a thing to him. Clearly, they and his scars meant quite a lot to him.

Thomas didn't know what to say. 'Im sorry?' No shit. 'Its okay?' Of course its not okay!

So, Thomas pulled Alexander into his bare chest and let him cry. He stroked the brunette's long hair tenderly. 

Thomas had never been so affectionate to Alexander in his entire life, and now, though the two would never admit it, they kind of enjoyed what it was like to act as lovers. Maybe one day they could take that title with pride.

Alexander pulled back after a few minutes, wiping his face off and taking a few deep breaths.

"I'm sorry. You probably think I'm over-reacting. I just...I don't want you to see the rest of my disgusting body. I want to hide every thing that bothers me from you because..."

Alex stopped, fingered a loose thread on the bottom of his shirt. 

"Because you're perfect. You get to be absolutely flawless and I don't want to burden you with my problems. Perfect people shouldn't be weighed down by imperfect people--"

Thomas let out a sarcastic laugh.

"And I thought your political views were insane. Do you even hear yourself when you talk? I'm far from perfect. Everyone is. Everyone is insecure about something, you idiot. Do you honestly think I give a shit about what your scars look like? Do you think I only want you for your body? You're so wrong Alex. So wrong. I don't care what your back looks like because you're still you, no matter what I see on your skin." He said, anger lacing his tone.

Alexander cringed. He heard the venom starting to ooze out in Thomas's voice. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry, Tommy." Alex said, stretching out his pet name in attempt to distract him from the ongoing topic.

"Don't 'Tommy' me, Hamilton. I'm pissed that you could ever call yourself disgusting. Do you even realize It hurts me to know how you were mistreated in the past? And that you hate yourself so deeply for something that wasn't even your fault? I know you always say I'm heartless and that I don't love you, but just shut the fuck up already. I care about you, even if i rarely show it. You're not just a fuck toy to me."

Alexander almost started crying again, but he stopped in his tracks as a wave of fear washed over him. He felt Thomas's hands grab the bottom of his mauve shirt.

"T-Thomas--"

"Let me do this, Beautiful. It won't change my opinion about you, no matter what. You'll still be the chirpy asshole that I've grown to know and love." Thomas said, hesitantly dragging the fabric above the elastic of his boxers.

Alexander nodded curtly and lifted his arms above his head as Thomas yanked off the rest of his shirt.

Thomas slid his boxers off and motioned for Alexander to do the same. Alex flushed, and complied.

In the shower, Thomas held out his hand to lead Alexander in front of him. Alexander's body started quivering in fear, but Thomas pressed a long kiss to his temple.

"It's just me, angel, it's only me." He whispered into Alexander's ear.

So, Alex stepped into the shower and closed the curtain.

There was a deafening silence that filled the room. The only sound that rang in Alexander's ears was the soft trickling of water against his and Thomas's hair. 

However, he could practically hear Thomas's eyes scanning over every gash. Every stitch and hole. Every white slit contrasting against tan skin. Everything.

He felt a sob wrack through his body. And then another. And another. And soon he was a sobbing mess for the second time that day.

"Why are you crying, my love?" Thomas asked to Alexander's back, which was originally meant to be rhetorical. He buried his chin into the crook of Alexander's neck and wrapped his arms around his small torso.

"I can feel you staring at them. I know you're thinking about how weak I am.” 

Thomas shook his head, craning his neck back up to it's natural stance.

"Sweetheart, you're crazy. That thought never even crossed my mind. If anything, I think you're anything but weak. You stood up for America even when you were on the brink of death. That takes guts. I would never be able to do that. Hell, I'm too scared to even fight in a war. I don't think I even know how to hold a gun, let alone shoot one."

Alex let out a shaky giggle.

"You're too good to me, Tommy." Alex sighed, wiping his eyes, and tilting his head backwards to look up at the man above him. Thomas ducked down and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

"You're so cute right now. I wish you acted like this all the time." Thomas joked, humming thoughtfully against Alexander's lips.

Alex bit down forcefully against against Thomas's lower lip. "Shut up, I'm just tired."

Thomas winced in pain, but laughed as soon as Alex let go. "Tired from last night? And how hard i went do—“ 

"Do you actually know how to shut your mouth? I'm honestly wondering."

Thomas grinned mischievously before Alex lost sight of his face. 

Thomas crouched down and began pressing little pecks to his back. He fluttered his lips against every scar on Alexander's back while muttering on and on about how 'beautiful' and 'strong' Alex was.

As Thomas kissed his way down his back, he immediately felt one of the kisses land somewhere quite a bit lower than the rest.

"And you even have a cute bum."

"Hey!"


End file.
